Rex placed the shovel in the maintenance compartment of the Y-wing bomber. His hand unclenched painfully from around its handle, cramped and blistered from using it for so long. He and Ahsoka had spent hours – exactly how many, he had lost count - digging out his brothers from the crash site of the Tribunal and burying them properly. It was bitter work and Ahsoka had offered to use the Force to move debris and place bodies in their graves but Rex refused. They would do this the same way he had numerous times on the battlefield – with nothing but their hands and a shovel.
Now that his adrenaline was dying down from the day's events, every inch of Rex's body screamed in pain. His head pounded - a dull ache in the back where Ahsoka had smacked him against the holotable and a sharp pulse in his temple where his inhibitor chip was removed. Numerous blaster bolts burned in his skin and his left shoulder hung lower than his right from the one that pierced his pauldron. His armor was cracked and jagged in several places, cutting through his blacks and making him bleed. The muscles from his legs, up his back, and down his arms trembled in exertion from the manual labor and the fact that he had not even had a chance to SIT DOWN since they landed on Mandalore. That felt like a lifetime ago.
Rex looked over to Ahsoka, who was still standing in front of the freshly dug graves, marked by each clone's helmet. A sea of orange and white that made his stomach flip so violently he thought he might vomit. They were supposed to be a token of friendship and admiration for her. Rex had suggested the paint job to General Skywalker, the 332nd had needed a way to distinguish themselves from the 501st main after all, and the General had loved the idea. When Ahsoka walked silently among the men inspecting their new helmets, Rex had a flash of panic that perhaps they were in poor taste and offended her. Her grateful smile when he greeted her as Commander said otherwise. But now, these helmets held no happy memories. They were gravestones. A reminder of what his brothers had become, against their own wills. What they had so pointlessly died for.
Ahsoka didn't move as Rex approached her. He noticed the dust around her feet and realized she had dropped her lightsabers in the dirt near the graves. Good. Those held no happy memories now either. "We should get moving," he said, his voice strained from exhaustion. "A recon team is probably already on its way to assess the crash."
"You're probably right," Ahsoka turned to Rex. Her face was partially concealed by the tattered cloak she was wearing but he could see the dirt, sweat, and blood smeared across it. There was a watery film over her eyes too, the kind you see when someone is trying to fight back tears. Rex was not as intuitive as the Jedi he knew – had known, he corrected himself – but he had a feeling she was putting on a brave face for his sake. It made his chest ache more painfully than any of the injuries he had. He had tried to kill her and she could have easily cut him down or escaped on her own and left him to die with the others. But she chose to save him and refused to leave without him. Then he guilted her into tucking away her Force powers and digging through the ship's carnage with him until her hands blistered and bled worse than his. And here she stood, beaten and defeated, still trying to put his needs before her own.
"We should find a place to rest for the night," Rex continued. "A few planets over. We can regroup in the morning and figure out a plan from there." He sighed deeply. "But first, we need to rest."
"Yeah," Ahsoka's response was disconnected. She met Rex's eyes then looked back at the gravesite. With a nod, she started a slow pace back to the ship.
"Ahsoka," Rex called after her. "Thank you for… this." He motioned to the graves, not knowing how to put it into words.
"It's the least we could do for them," she said miserably.
They walked silently back to the ship. Ahsoka climbed into the cockpit and turned on the navigation system. Rex anchored his boot in one of the footing alcoves and leaned on the cockpit entrance to watch her. She flipped through several maps before tapping on one. "Here, one of the moons of Thisspias should work. The system is close enough that we won't need to jump to hyperspace."
"And they're habitable?" Rex asked.
"More or less," Ahsoka replied, thumbing through the data on each moon. "Their atmospheres are breathable but they've got nothing to offer in ways of resources. Which means there shouldn't be anyone on them." She confirmed the coordinates on the holoscreen. "I can fly the ship if you need a rest."
"No," Rex shook his head. "You've done enough. I can fly. Besides, you said it was a short trip."
A few hours later, they had landed on one of the moons of Thisspias and were unpacking what little supplies they recovered from the Tribunal. The moon was cold and wet, with a temperature that fluctuated ever so slightly between day and night that the icy surfaces were constantly slick from melting and refreezing. The Y-wing was parked under the only rocky alcove they could find that wouldn't drip water into the ship and freeze the mechanics.
Ahsoka was collecting water in a small filtration pod to test if it was drinkable. Rex was awkwardly slouched under the Y-wing, trying to set up their bedrolls on the only dry patch of land on the entire damn moon. The bent position shot a searing pain into his back and left shoulder, and he stumbled to his knees. This caught Ahsoka's attention and she hurried over to him, her face riddled with concern. She got on her knees and scooted under the Y-wing with him.
"Are you okay?" Ahsoka asked gently. "You shouldn't overdo it. We've had… a day."
"Yeah, it's been a day, alright," Rex retorted. "I'm fine. Just tired." He lowered himself into a sitting position. "Let's just… deal with the rest of this tomorrow."
"Good idea," Ahsoka replied. "The water is drinkable at least. Here." She grabbed a canteen from the small pile of supplies that Rex had unceremoniously dumped next to the bedrolls, something very unlike him that was evidence of his exhaustion. She filled it from the filtration pod, then handed it to him. He took a deep swig then passed it back with a nod of gratitude. Ahsoka took a drink while she studied him.
Rex caught her gaze and gave her a puzzled look. "What is it?"
"Rex," Ahsoka's look was serious and sad and it made his chest hurt again. "How many times were you shot?" Her hand ghosted over the blaster holes in his armor, pausing at the hole in his pauldron, and Rex saw her posture tense as she realized the reason for his off-balanced shoulder. Her hands continued their hovering inspection on his sides and Rex heard a small gasp when she saw the bits of armor that were fractured and cutting into his bare skin. "You should take your armor off. You're literally bleeding from it."
"It's fine," he said. Hasn't she worried about him enough today? "I've dealt with worse."
She gave him a look that has the slightest spark of her usual spunky personality, as if to say, really? Because I've been with you most of those times and this definitely takes the Batuu-bon. She shook her head in disagreement. "We don't have a med kit and who knows when we'll get our hands on some bacta. You need to clean that up or you'll get an infection."
"Fine," Rex sighed. "You're right." He started peeling off his arm and wrist guards, tossing them in another haphazard pile. He winced as he tried to lift his arm to remove his pauldron. The pain and exertion from the day had caught up with him and all strength had left his body. His arm slumped to his side and he took a deep breath before swinging it up to his opposite shoulder to try again, but to no avail.
Ahsoka watched him intently. This irritated Rex, like one of his instructors from his cadet days judging him on how quickly he could kit up – no, he stopped that thought. It was too painful to think about those days. "Do you need some help?" she asked him hesitantly.
"No," Rex shot back a little too quickly and sharply. He had already been so vulnerable in front of her today that he didn't want to rely on her help for the umpteenth time. But when his third attempt to swing his dead-as-lead arm up to his pauldron failed, he just felt pathetic. He sighed and gestured with his hand towards Ahsoka to wordlessly say, "Go ahead."
Ahsoka said nothing and began to worked diligently to unlock each piece of his upper armor and stacked them neatly in a pile, re-arranging the pieces Rex had already thrown there. Her fingers were extra careful on his pauldron and cracked plackart. Rex relaxed a bit when some of the pain subsided as each constricting piece of armor was removed. He watched her for a moment then closed his eyes, trying to subdue some of his exhaustion. Ahsoka removed his kamas then skipped down to his knee plates, removing down to his boots. She paused. "Do you want me to do these too?"
His codpiece and thigh plates were left. "Yeah, the magnetic release is on the seam by the hipbone." Rex replied without opening his eyes. He was oblivious to why Ahsoka stopped and didn't see the slight blush in her cheeks from the awkwardness of it. Or maybe he was too tired to care how inappropriate this would be if he had asked her to do it under normal circumstances. Regardless, Ahsoka obliged and Rex was out of his armor and down to his blacks.
Ahsoka continued working in silence, ripping off sections of her cloak and soaking them in the water she had collected. She cleaned the large gash in Rex's torso first, where his plackart had fractured and started shredding into his skin. He winced when she gingerly picked out the pieces of plastoid stuck to the wound, but the cool, clean water brought some relief. Ahsoka was definitely right that he would have gotten an infection if this hadn't gotten clean. She dressed the rest of the wounds as best she could with the water and makeshift bandages, then took another piece of damp cloth and started to wipe the grime from Rex's face.
"Hey!" It caught Rex off guard. "You don't need to- I can take it from here." He put a hand on Ahsoka's arm and gently lowered it.
"It's fine, I'm almost finished." Ahsoka raised the cloth to his face again.
Rex pulled away and put up a hand to block his face. "You don't need to clean the dirt off my face. I'm not some helpless thing."
Ahsoka grimaced and quickly dropped her hand. "I'm sorry, that's not- that wasn't my intention. I know you're not- I was just trying to help." Her words came out flustered and crashed together.
"Ah, it's fine." Rex felt bad. He knew she was well-intended and didn't mean to embarrass her. "It's fine, really. I appreciate the gesture."
"I just wanted to help," Ahsoka repeated, her voice cracking at the end. She turned away from Rex and wrung out the cloth in her hand. Her shoulders started to shudder. Dank farrik. Now he felt really bad. Tears fell into her lap as silent sobs began to rip through her.
And then Rex realized he had just made the entire day's events crash down on her.
"Ahsoka," he said softly. "Kid, it's okay." Rex had never seen her cry like this. Or cry ever. He has seen her upset, possibly on the verge of tears, but nothing like this. Despite her being a Jedi who usually wore her emotions on her sleeve, much like her master, if she had ever experienced this kind of anguish before, she certainly never showed it.
He wanted to help her, as she had done countless times that day for him, but he felt utterly useless. Rex put a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder, hoping the gesture would communicate that she could lean into him for support. She didn't move or meet his gaze, her chest heaving and tears continuing to stream down her face. Rex raised his other hand to her other shoulder and gently pulled her towards him, inviting her in again. This time she accepted and Ahsoka's face slumped against his chest, low enough that his chin rested naturally on top of her montrals. Her tears started soaking through his blacks.
Seeing Ahsoka become vulnerable like this was the last wall to come down for Rex. Without realizing, he began to cry as well. The reality of what happened that day punched him in the gut, knocking the air from him. The entire 332nd was dead. The rest of the 501st was likely under the control of their obedience chips. General Skywalker was gone, Ahsoka had sensed it. General Kenobi too, which probably meant that Cody killed him and was under his chip's control as well. Wolffe, Echo, all his friends and brothers. If they weren't dead, their minds were gone. Rex was afraid to admit what he thought was a worse fate. He realized he had been holding his breath and let out a rattled, cathartic sigh. The tears streamed harder now.
Ahsoka felt the wetness on the top of her montrals and pulled away to look up at Rex. His bloodshot eyes met her gaze and he gave her a small nod to confirm this was okay. They could let out their grief. Together. She pulled him into a proper embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her head buried between his good shoulder and his neck. Rex reciprocated, his arms around her back to support her, his head rested against her lekku. They stayed like that for a while, no words passed between them, neither one caring that the other's tears were soaking into their clothes.
When it felt like they both had nothing left in their bodies to cry out, they pulled apart. Rex ran a hand over his red, swollen eyes and Ahsoka tried to wipe the layers of dried tears from her cheeks. They sat in silence for a few moments until Ahsoka said, "Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day."
"Tomorrow will be a new day," Rex repeated.